


pickpocket

by buries



Series: 100 word prompt fills [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, F/M, Future Fic, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 18:03:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5711920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buries/pseuds/buries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>i'm with you. i don't need protecting.</i> or the one where bellamy's to blame for raven's interest in monty and monroe's weekly doll fights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pickpocket

**Author's Note:**

> lmfao, i don't even know what this is. all i wanted to do was just write something random to get myself into the momentum of writing for today, and what was meant to just be a quick fic about these guys apparently playing tekken 2 with barbie dolls turned into something with feelings.
> 
> inspired by the prompt of _pickpocket_ and me apparently thinking about barbies. this is sort of set in the same universe as [you came into my crazy world](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4398308), but you don't need to read that to get this at all. they just sort of exist around one another.
> 
> you can read the relationship as secret if you want. i figured someone out there might enjoy some future bellamy/raven.
> 
> unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine. thanks for reading! ♥

Monroe’s obsessed with these dolls with long legs and thin arms and elbows that remain bent regardless of the scenario they place her in. She’s got blonde hair and blue eyes and reminds her creepily of Clarke.

Maybe it’s how the doll doesn’t move. She doesn’t blink. Her smile remains the same regardless of the scenario she finds herself in. Monty had found a boy doll that looked a hell of a lot like Bellamy, except he smiled a lot. And he lacked in something that had made Wick grateful the doll didn’t have blonde hair and green eyes.

Like that’s all there is to the world. There’s world peace to think about, like Monty says. There’s Greek stories to learn and subtly slip into her conversations with someone who devours them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Sometimes Raven looks at Clarke and thinks her to be a doll. Unmovable. Unfeeling. Sometimes that person she’d been when she’d ditched Bellamy and left him feeling so lifeless he became a puppet. Or this doll.

Monty names him Berry like it’s the best fucking name in the world. Monroe names her doll Meer, since that was Fox’s favourite animal. Raven doesn’t think about it now as she watches Monty take his turn in lifting Berry’s leg in a horrible rendition of a kick.

It’s Fight Club in her workstation with the dolls. She observes Bellamy sit on the opposite side, elbows resting on the workbench as he watches with a bored expression. But with how he doesn’t blink, watching how they move the dolls, he’s not as disinterested as he appears. It’s a game where only one person gets to move at a time and with one move per turn, and when they lift their hand from their doll, the move stays. It’s like chess, but for young people.

Or for those who are incredibly creative, yet deeply disturbed. Raven had liked that tagline from Monty for their little club best.

She misses Monty’s hand shake and disconnect from Berry’s leg. Bellamy doesn’t, though.

Looking up at Monty, he says, bored, “You can’t undo it.”

Monty presses his lips together, frustrated. It’s like he can predict Monroe’s next move even though they’re not playing on a board of white and black squares. Clarke hasn’t finished painting it yet, so it’s free-for-all with the rules and scenarios.

“Your turn,” Monty concedes with a sigh to Monroe.

She purses her lips and looks at Meer. Even though they lack the board, she can see a move. It’s the one she’d been told to rely upon when she needed it most. Finn’s mother had good advice when it came to making men drop to their knees. 

Raven leans forward to whisper in her ear.

“Hey!” Monty shoots up from his stool. Berry falls over without his hands keeping him upright. For as good as a judge as he is, Bellamy doesn’t move to right the fallen doll. Monty doesn’t look at his hands as he fumbles to wrap his fingers around Berry’s legs and have him stand again. “You can’t do that. That’s cheating.”

Without looking, Monty shifts Berry into the position he’d been in before. For a delinquent, he follows the rules perfectly.

Raven pulls away from Monroe to settle properly on her seat. Looking at him unimpressed, Monty begins to stammer again. But before he can catch words from the air around them she purposefully schools her face into something menacingly blank. “What?”

“Getting outsider help! It’s not fair.”

“This game is stupid, Monty,” Raven says.

“There’s rules!”

“Where you can’t undo your move once your hand leaves your doll,” she deadpans. Glancing at Monroe, she looks at her expectantly, waiting for her to pipe up.

Eventually, Monroe says, “It wasn’t really fair when you had Octavia trying to distract Jasper in the last match.”

“That was different!”

“Not really,” Bellamy says. He shrugs and slumps on his stool. Raven doesn’t need to look beneath the bench to see how he presses his feet against the little step she’d made for him. It’s a bar that sits between the legs of his stool, giving him ample opportunity to piss her off by tapping his foot as he waits for her or even kick his seat out and from under him if he wishes to move.

Monty glares at Bellamy. “I thought you were on my side.”

“I was,” he says, looking at him, “until I learned you named that damn thing after me.” And with a sweep of his hand toward Berry, close enough Bellamy may hit him and knock him from the tournament, Monty gasps, offended.

Raven doesn’t realise she’s laughing until Bellamy looks at her with an upward quirk to his lips.

It’s interrupted with Monty’s hiss, “ _Octavia_.” Looking down at Berry, he shakes his head. Moving his hand to shake his head, Raven slaps his hand away. 

“Nuh uh,” she says. “Rules, Green.”

Monty slumps in his stool, holding Berry in place. He stands on one leg and looks pathetically happy to be possibly kicking Meer in the chest until Monroe makes a move.

Raven doesn’t watch the rest of the game unfold, looking at Bellamy instead. He glances up at her a few times, but is otherwise preoccupied with watching the game continue. Berry’s taken a step back for Meer to move forward, her hand outstretched like she wants to take him somewhere.

She knows what Monroe’s planning, and even Monty does, too. Falling right into the palm of her hand, he’s going to have Berry walk right off the edge of the table before he has a chance to become a threat in this game again.

It’s how it always ends when they play. Sometimes she wonders what would happen if she and Bellamy chose to play dolls.

She has a feeling he’d throw Berry across her workstation within seconds of their match beginning.

When Berry finally falls off the side of the table to Monty’s dismay, Monroe cheers. With a wide grin, she declares it’s time for her to tell Octavia Monty’s lost for the _fourth_ time in a row.

Half-dancing her victory dance she and Octavia had come up with, half-running from Monty as he chases her with Berry in his hands, they leave the workstation in a rush of laughter and yelling. What settles in their wake is a blanket of quietness.

Bellamy’s only moved back on his stool, no longer leaning on his elbows. There’s nothing to watch but her, and she knows he’s not content to do that when she’s watching him watch her watch him.

She doesn’t know when they’d become so stupidly complicated.

With her hand against the workbench, she moves, using it to hold her up as she takes her steps. Not pushing herself, she’s slow, and she knows he’d prefer to wait as many hours as it takes for her to make her way from one side of her long workbench to his if it means she won’t strain her leg. 

Dragging her leg at a pace that still feels too slow for her, even a year later, she comes to stand beside him. 

“Enjoy that?”

She looks down at him, watching as he takes a minute to glance at her from the corner of his eye. Peering up at her, his hair falls into his face. It’s a little too wild for her tastes, threatening to overcome him like weeds do the pretty flowers Octavia had planted along the metal fence.

Brushing his hair back, she watches as his eyes move away from hers for a moment. She takes this opportunity to move her hand slowly in his hair, letting it slip from it to his face.

When her hand is on his cheek, she can feel him lean into it slowly. Like he doesn’t want her to know he’s doing it. Like he wants the world to be unaware of it. There’s a piece of Bellamy afraid of those tectonic plates underneath the earth he’s read so much about. If he shakes the earth too much beneath his feet, maybe something monstrous will happen to them. Devouring any book he can find in the self-appointed Junk Room of the Ark, he’s almost convinced himself he’s Gaia at times, but Raven finds she isn’t so scared of the world moving beneath her feet.

Sometimes she wants to make a joke she’d only half feel it. But she knows it isn’t true. It’s within these moments she doesn’t feel like she’s missing an integral piece of her.

When he’s looking at her wrist, no longer pretending he doesn’t need someone to move him about like he’s actually Berry, she hears him. “Yeah.” And she knows he’s not speaking of the doll fight match.

She feels his hand snake around her waist just as his head tilts into the open palm of her hand. It’s meant to throw her off, split her in two so she can’t properly tease him for not being openly apathetic in how their shadows seem to stand together like they were meant to be side by side.

He pulls away from her and she feels him move her. It’s awkward to sit on his lap the way she wants to, but she moves her leg with her hand, knows his hand would feel warm if she could feel it through her jeans as he helps her settle properly on him. Before, she used to sit on his knees, and sometimes she’d almost slip off from how unbalanced he used to make her.

“Those dolls are stupid,” he murmurs.

“I know,” she laughs softly. Her voice remains quiet, like they’re the only two people on the earth. Sometimes, she wishes they were. “That’s what makes them _great_.”

Bellamy shakes his head, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her jeans to brush against her hip. They remain there, hooking over the fabric to keep her in place.

Looking down at him, her hand brushes at his cheek. “Do you think they have dolls of us?”

Bellamy’s face crinkles into disgust. She laughs loudly.

“Hope not.”

Leaning forward, she grins widely and jokingly whispers, “I bet they make them do really dirty things.”

“Like bury each other in mud.”

Raven rolls her eyes, but smiles. His reaction was worth humouring a very disturbing thought.

“I really hate he named it after me.”

Pressing her lips together, she wiggles on his lap. Settling, she wraps her arms around his neck, feeling them clasp at his shoulder. Pulling back, she looks at him, and watches as he responds to her, peering at her as though she’s worthy of his time.

She likes that most. How he always looks at her when he’d been glancing at the table at a meeting. How he’ll stare at a wall or the floor and lift his gaze to only watch her when she talks.

“Well,” she begins slowly. “Monty actually wanted to name it something else. He wanted to go with Ken. It apparently sounded like kin and considering how he’s a little _too_ into that fox mythology you told him about …”

“Kitsunes.”

Raven looks at him blankly. “Whatever.” She stalls for a moment, swallowing. “He wasn’t the one who named the doll Berry.”

She feels Bellamy’s back straighten. “Who did?”

She remains quiet, looking away from him on purpose.

“ _Raven_.”

She smiles at him, and does her best to bite back her amused laugh. “In my defense, he looks just like you.”

Pressing his lips together, Bellamy looks unimpressed.

“And maybe I was hoping for a Raven doll.”

He shakes his head. “That’s disgusting.”

She hits his shoulder. “Says the person thinking gross things about dolls. I just wanted one.” She shrugs her shoulder, looking down at the floor. Her words come out quicker in her own defense, “Look, I read this thing about people using dolls to curse people. I thought, maybe if I named this stupid thing after you, whenever you go away, you’ll be safe if I steal it from Monty and pretend I don’t know where he is when he’s looking for him to fight with Monroe.”

His brows rise in incredulousness. Even his voice shifts, pitching higher, “You wanted to voodoo me?”

He’d read to her about that once. _Voodoo_. The word sounds just as dumb as she remembers.

She looks at him. “It was originally Octavia’s idea to hide the doll.”

“But you named it after me.”

Raven smiles widely, “It was a moment of weakness I’ll repeat again and again if it means you’ll be the butt of _so_ many jokes.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “I can’t believe this.”

“What?” Her hands slide up toward the back of his neck. “That I’d be into dolls?”

“That you _named_ one after me and you think one’s going to protect me.”

Her brow furrows. “He’s with me. Of course he’s going to be protected.”

Looking at her patiently, he sighs. Tilting his head, he looks at her in a manner she sometimes thinks he doesn’t realise catches him when he needs to be focused. Head of the Guard. The one who makes all the decisions. He shouldn’t be distracted in meetings by looking at the mechanic with such softness.

“ _I’m_ with you,” he says, softly. “I don’t need protecting.”

She blinks at him. There’s the thought to inform him of the dolls representing them. As long as they remain out of harm’s way, maybe they will, too. It’s a thought process Monroe had introduced her to. If a warrior like her believes in the power of dolls representing what they’re capable of, then maybe it’s not so horrible of a thought to place her faith in it.

Raven likes to believe that if a Raven doll and a Bellamy doll stay together, so will they. She used to think that about the boy who had made her a raven necklace.

Sometimes she thinks if Berry can survive falling off a cliff, so can her people. If Meer can lose the function of her arm and _still_ kick Berry’s ass when they declare her limb to no longer be there, even though they can all _see_ it, maybe she can. It’s a lesson she’s been learning lately. It’s one that she knows has been taught to her from the very person she’d named the stupid doll after.

With her quiet, she supposes, in hindsight, it’s the perfect opportunity for him to move forward. Leaning up, she watches him as he comes closer. Feels his mouth against the corner of her own seconds after her own lashes flutter at his closeness. It’s then she realises her eyes are closed. And when one of her hands slides into his hair and the other lowers itself into the fabric of his maroon shirt to grip at it, he kisses her.

She doesn’t need two dolls to predict this for her.


End file.
